


Love is foolish

by Elenyafinwe



Series: Elrond in Aman [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aman (Tolkien), F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Fourth Age, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Lost Love, Love, One Shot, Reunions, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe
Summary: When Maenwen, an elf from Aman, hears that Elrond is looking for a temp, she seizes this opportunity to see him up close. Since she heard that he had once lived with Maglor for a while, she has been interested in his story. However, this encounter is set to end much more surprisingly for everyone involved than they had expected.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Maglor | Makalaurë/Maglor's Wife
Series: Elrond in Aman [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/402919
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Liebe ist närrisch](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/729735) by Elenyafinwe. 



> First of all, a comment on the spoken languages. In my HC all people here speak Quenya, which is also reflected in the names at the appropriate places. Yerna-saira for example for Frodo; in Sindarin his name is given as Iorhael, which I translated into Quenya. For Bilbo, unfortunately, I did not find an elven name, but he certainly had one. For the sake of readability I decided to continue writing the old familiar names in the continuous text.

Once Maenwen had listened anxiously to news from the Hither Shore, but those times were long gone. From the refugees at the beginning of the Second Age she had heard the end that had befallen the sons of Feanor, and from then on she had closed her heart completely to the sorrow of the Mortal Lands.

Once, long, long ago, she had dreamed of her own kingdom at Endor by her husband's side. Perhaps she had not pursued her dream as vigorously as Galadriel, but she had dreamed nonetheless.  
Alqualonde had shattered that dream. She had not been able to bear what had happened there and wanted nothing to do with it. With a heavy heart she had renounced her husband and joined Finarfin's people. But love was not so easy to forget.

She had tried, for many thousands of years, and at some point her old pain was nothing more than a pale shadow, a dull throb that she could easily ignore if she did not concentrate on it. Her life went on.

Then the ring-bearers had come to Valinor, and when Maenwen learned of their stories, all that she had long believed buried within her had broken open again.

Now she stood outside the manor and hesitated. Several years ago, Celebrían had already settled here, planted orchards and started to make her own fruit brandy. Maenwen had not been interested in it any further, even though she sometimes enjoyed the brandy that was made here. Even though she had made a name for herself, Celebrían was just another refugee from Endor for Maenwen. Her interest had only been awakened when she heard that Elrond was her husband.

The two of them were currently looking for another helper for their estate. Maenwen had seized the opportunity. She put aside her old memories and concentrated rather on her curiosity about what she could expect from a Half-elf. Sure, Elrond's parents had lived in Aman for a long time, but they were far away in the north and Maenwen had never met them. So it was the first time she could see such a curiosity as the Peredhil with her own eyes, and now her curiosity was aroused. She knocked.

An old Noldo, unmistakably one of Feanor's former followers, opened the door. Stunned, she stared at the star that was shining on the elven armor. Then she looked up at him - and recognized him.

"Alacenandur!"

Rethtulu seemed no less astonished to find her here. " Lady Maenwen," he cried out. "I did not expect to find you here."

She meant for him to remain calm. "Shh, keep quiet. "I don't want everyone to know who I was. I'm here because I heard Elerondo was looking for a help."

Rethtulu remained calm on the outside, but she sensed his confusion.

"My master does not know you exist," he said reluctantly.

"And I wish it to remain so," she stressed. "So not a word to anyone about who I once was. That lies long in the past. Now I am just some Elven who is looking for a job here. Is there anyone else here who might know me?"

Rethtulu nodded. "Ceomon. I will pass your words along to him."

"Very well. Take me to Elerondo now."

"My master is with Yerna-saira at his uncle's grave right now. But if you are looking for employment here, you will want to speak to the Lady Tyelpetári anyway; she owns everything here."

With these words he led her into the house and led her to his lady. She was sitting in a study and seemed to be checking the finances of her estate. Maenwen was astonished to discover that Galadriel's daughter was pregnant and was apparently nearing childbirth. She had not expected this.  
As Rethtulu led the guest in, Celebrían looked up. The resemblance to her mother was unmistakable, even if her features seemed much softer than Maenwen Galadriel had remembered.  
Rethtulu bowed slightly. "My lady, this elf seeks employment with you at your request."

Maenwen stepped forward and curtsied. "They call me Maenwen," she introduced herself. Just one name among many. If Elrond did not even know she existed, that name would never mean anything to anyone here anyway.

"It suits me very well", Celebrían rejoiced. "I need someone to help us in the household, in the fields, in sales. Everything that I'm currently unable to do." She pointed to her belly.  
"That sounds like work I can do," Maenwen assured her, "If I may ask, when will it be? If you wish, I can help you with the children's care."

Smiling pensive, Celebrían stroked her belly. "Twins. Again, this must simply lie in Eleronde's family. In a few weeks it will be time. And thank you for your offer, but my maid Laerwen is already entrusted with the task. She will be happy to have someone else assist her with the other tasks."

She beckoned Rethtulu to her. "Please help me up. Then we'll go and see my husband, so he can show the manor to Maenwen."

"Thank you, mistress!" Maenwen said quickly. Apparently Celebrían had already decided on the matter.

Rethtulu helped his mistress up, as her advanced pregnancy was causing her some problems walking.

" Lady, you know what Lord Elerondo would say if you were still doing the paperwork," he reminded her.

"Yes, yes..." Celebrían waved off. Then she led Maenwen behind the house.

Here the next surprise awaited her. She had heard that among the ring bearers were two representatives of a strange people who called themselves Hobbits, but who were better known here as Perioni. Rethtulu's mention of a grave had surprised her, but now she saw what he meant by it.

Elrond and a small, wrinkled fellow, who could only be Frodo, stood at the grave. Elrond himself had just brushed off the stone, having previously helped Frodo to look after the flowers that had been planted, as Frodo had grown too old to do the work himself. It was his Uncle Bilbo's grave.

Maenwen looked at the two of them and hoped that her curiosity would not be seen too much. She had never been so directly confronted with the concept of mortality. She wondered what it was like to know that one day one would cease to exist.

Elrond was the first to notice them. He stood up and hurried to Celebrían.

"You should not move so much anymore, _indo-ninya_ ," he admonished. Then he turned to Maenwen. "Who's that?"

So that was a Peredhel. Maenwen wasn't really sure what to expect. But certainly not to face an elf who had to be looked at very closely to see that he counted men among his ancestors. Having lived in the Hither Shore for more than seven thousand years and worked tirelessly against the Black Foe had nevertheless left its mark on him.

But what interested Maenwen much more was the light in his eyes, which only the elves who had lived in Aman at the time of the Two Trees possessed. But that could not be! Unless he had seen one of the gems of Feanor. If he was Elwing's son, then that might not have been so unlikely.

"I am Maenwen, Lord," she introduced herself. "Your wife was kind enough to offer me a job here as a temp."

"You've been telling me about it long enough, _indo-ninya_ ," she added with a laugh.

Elrond looked relieved, as if a great burden had been lifted from him.

"Then come with me and I'll show you around," he said. "And you, Tyelpetári, sit down and rest." He looked at her sternly but Celebrían seemed heartily unimpressed.

Elrond now took care of Maenwen and led her around to show her her new workplace. She had heard that he was able to fathom the hearts of elves and humans, but all the while he did not give the impression that he had recognized who she was. She had no intention of changing that too quickly, and preferred to watch him silently.

In the weeks that followed, she would find that although stories from Middle-earth were one thing, they often told surprisingly little about the one they were about. Maenwen quickly learned not to speak of Elwing or Earendil in this house. Instead, Elrond openly acknowledged Feanor's eldest sons since he had been in Valinor.

Most of all, however, she was surprised that Maedhros was among them again. Maenwen must have just missed him, though, for he had only recently been called before the Valar to repent. He was not expected back before Celebrian's delivery. What amazes Maenwen most about this is that Maedhros lived with Elrond, and Elrond called him his uncle and seemed to be very fond of him. Maenwen remembered what she had heard about the end of the First Age. It had been Maedhros who had attacked Arvernias, destroyed Elrond's home and kidnapped him himself. But when Elrond spoke of him, it seemed to Maenwen that none of this had ever happened.

Maenwen wondered if Elrond's affection for Maedhros would also apply to Maglor.

Nevertheless, as soon as Maedhros would return, her little masquerade would be blown up. She didn't know whether to be worried or happy, especially since she couldn't ask Maedhros not to reveal her like she did with Ceomon and Rethtulu.

The moment was to come sooner than assumed, and above all completely differently than she had expected.

Maenwen was just about to sift through the empty crates in the cellar and prepare them for the next harvest when she heard nervous voices calling through the house. The basement window opened to the terrace and she heard what was being discussed there.

"Gandalf, how good to see you here," Frodo said, only to immediately add with a worried tone, "Who is this? What has happened to him?"

Frodo had spoken Westron. Maenwen had not been able to pick up much of this language, but it was just enough to understand Frodo's words.

"That, my dear Frodo, is Maglor," replied Gandalf. "Now please tell me where I can find Master Elrond so he can take care of him."

Maglor...

This name alone brought back to life what she had thought lost forever more than three ages ago. Tears filled her eyes. Even knowing that Maedhros was among them again, she had not dared to hope.

She carelessly dropped the box she had held in her hands and stormed upstairs. She had just arrived when Elrond laid his patient in his own bed and immediately began nursing him back to health. Outwardly he seemed calm and routine, but Maenwen sensed what a storm was raging inside him.

With a suppressed groan Maenwen sank against the door frame. There lay Maglor indeed, but what a cruel fate he had suffered! He looked haggard, his clothes torn and his hair dull. Apparently he was not in his mind, his eyes were empty and his _fea_ far away. And then his hands! Horrified, Maenwen turned away.

"Father, all will be well," she heard Elrond say emphatically. "Do you hear? All will be well now! Now I'm with you again."

Maenwen shivered when she heard Elrond speak to Maglor. He had called him father. But how could that be?

She hardly noticed someone tugging at her dress. When she looked down, she saw Frodo.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"That's Makalaure," she repeated breathlessly. "Feanáro's second eldest son, the greatest singer this world has known. It was said he was lost forever and no one saw him since the end of the First Age. How can this be?"

Gandalf, who had brought Maglor here, looked over at her. His eyes flashed in recognition, but he said nothing yet.

"Not all those who wander are lost, as Bilbo used to say," he declared instead. Addressing Elrond, he continued: "The deeds Makalaure committed are not forgotten, neither the bad ... nor the good. Because of you, the Valar allowed him to return to his old home, which he once turned his back on at his father's side. He is released from his oath and has repented long enough for the blood he has shed.

With tears in his eyes, Elrond looked up at him, but then he immediately went back to work. Under his expert and gentle care, he soon succeeded in relieving Maglor's worst agonies and calming his shrouded _fea_. Maglor seemed to regain consciousness. He blinked, his gaze clearing her.

But it was not Elrond he first noticed.

"Maenwen?" he whispered in disbelief and in a rough voice that had surely not been used for many years.

Immense astonishment was on Elrond's face as he turned to her.

There was no stopping Maenwen. She rushed to Maglor's side and took his hand. Tears of joy ran down her face.

"Yes, it's really me," she replied. "I thought you were lost forever!"

"You... you are not a dream?", Maglor asked uncertainly. "You won't disappear just like that?"

"No, definitely not." Crying and laughing at the same time, she held his hand to her face so he could feel that he was really and truly with her again. "I let you go once and thought you were lost forever. I won't let that happen to me again, my love."

Maglor still didn't seem to really understand that he wasn't dreaming. When he finally noticed Elrond, he just seemed all the more incredulous.

"It can't be," he breathed. "My son ... Elerondo ... where am I? Why is Maenwen with you? She left me so long ago and never came with us."

"Father!" Elrond sobbed and took him in his arms. "I thought I would never see you again."

When the first surge of emotion subsided and Celebrían had joined the group, Elrond released Maglor. Then he looked at Maenwen on the other side of the bed.

"How do you know uncle Makalaure?", he asked astonished.

With love in her eyes, Maenwen looked at Maglor. Obviously unsure how he should approach her after all that had happened between them, he returned her gaze.

"Because he is my husband," she opened, "we parted after Feanáro attacked Alqualonde, for I could not answer for what had happened there. And so it was that I had never left Aman. I had hoped that I could forget what had happened, but love is foolish. And today I'm glad I never forgot."

Elrond stared at her speechlessly.

Maglor's _fea_ had been pale and gray. But when he heard her words, a faint glow returned to it. "I thought you lost to me forever," he whispered. "You had renounced me, and I was foolish and proud enough to let you go. So I never spoke of you again as if you had never existed. What a fool I was! Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, I can, even though I know what you did. Love is foolish." For years, Maenwen had doubted if she could ever forgive Maglor for what he had done. But now, when he had come back into her life so suddenly, all doubts were wiped away.

But then she saw how Elrond still watched her speechlessly. His look made her shudder.

"Who really is your mother?" she asked fearfully.

Elrond seemed confused. Maglor was also irritated at first, but then he seemed to understand.

"My heart, I have always been true to you," he assured her. "Elrond and Elros are the children of Earendil and Elwing. But after what we, my brother and I, did in Arvernien, I took them in as sons. They were only children of six years."

"Uncle Makalaure has always been more like a father to us than Earendil," Elrond added. "I have no memory of Earendil, and the little I did remember of Elwing has long since faded as well."

"I suppose that makes Maenwen your mother, little one," Maglor said with a smile. The conversation had awakened more and more of his life's spirits.

Maenwen's heart was overflowing with joy. She had heard that Elrond had had something to do with Maglor in his past. That's why she had come here: to keep an eye on him and see what that something might be. She never suspected that her husband might have adopted him.

"But tell me, Elerondo, where is your brother? He is never far away from you," Maglor wanted to know.

Maenwen felt the mood change suddenly.

"Uncle... Father... I have failed you, I have not looked after Elerosse as you wanted," Elrond confessed. "He died in my arms on our 500th birthday. There was nothing more I could do for him."

Maenwen saw the stunned horror on Maglor's face. He must really care for Elrond and his brother and they have been like sons if this news shocked him so much.

"How?" gasped Maglor. "Why?"

"He was old, Uncle, that's why," Elrond said regretfully. "We followed you when you went north to claim the _silmarilli_ , but Eonwe told us you had already gone. And he also said that the time of our choice had come. Elerosse chose the fate of men unlike me. He died as King of Númenor."

Suddenly the grief was heavy on them. Gandalf had long since led Frodo outside so that they might enjoy their reunion in private. Celebrían had stayed behind, now comforting Elrond with a hand on his shoulder.

Maglor seemed paralyzed, something Maenwen had never seen before. He was no one to look back, not even when Finwe had been murdered. But much had happened since then. He had committed three kinslayings and had disappeared without a trace for two ages. Maenwen wondered what marks this had left on him that she would only see in time.

There was only one thing she knew for sure: she would stand by Maglor and never leave him alone again.

"Uncle, I want you to meet someone," Elrond said softly and took Celebrian's hand. "This is Tyelpetári, Artanis' daughter and my wife. You will very soon be grandfather to twins. And Uncle Maitimo is here too."

That did indeed seem to brighten Maglor's mood. "I was not there when you needed me most," he said softly. "Please forgive me, son, for my failure as a father. But... I'm here now."

"Yes, you are here now," Elrond repeated, "and we can be a family again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yerna-saira – old-wise, Qu.; translation of Frodo's Sindarin name Iorhael  
> Elerondo – Quenya translation for Elrond  
> Tyelpetári – Quenya translation for Celebrían  
> Perion – Halfling, Hobbit (pl. Perioni); Qu.  
> indo-ninya – my heart; Qu.  
> Fea – soul, spirit; Qu.  
> Elerosse - Quenya translation Elros


	2. Chapter 2

Maglor had been staring motionlessly at his bandaged hands for a while now. 

A week had passed since he had come back into Maenwen's life, and she had not left his side for a moment. Under Elrond's expert care he had quickly regained his strength and was now able to get out of bed for the first time. Maenwen had led him outside to the terrace where they had sat down together and enjoyed the sun.

Maenwen now knew what had happened at the end of the First Age and what had caused Maglor's injuries, which had never really healed despite all these years. He had learned to live with the pain, even welcomed it as part of his punishment. But what hurt him more was that his burnt hands did not allow him to play the harp as masterfully as he had once done. Elrond was optimistic that he could help Maglor, but Maenwen had sensed that her husband felt differently.

Elrond ... The revelation that she was Maglor's wife and that he had adopted Elrond and Elros had caused some confusion on all sides. Elrond and Celebrían had found it visibly unpleasant that they had not known who Maenwen were earlier. She had not blamed them, of course, but she herself had made sure that they remained unaware. But when the initial confusion quickly subsided, they all laughed at the fact that the wife of a Feanorian had worked on the estate as a simple servant. Celebrían immediately offered to find someone else for the job, but Maenwen refused. In the few weeks she had been here, she had found pleasure in the work.

The love that stood between Maglor and Elrond was evident. At first Maenwen didn't really know how to take it in her own mind. But as she sat here at her husband's side, it became clearer and clearer to her: It was not difficult to accept Elrond as her son. Maglor was his father, there was no doubt about that. And that is why she wanted to be the mother he had never had.

Maglor clenched his hands into fists. A single tear dripped on the bandages. Comforting, Maenwen put an arm around his trembling shoulders. She said nothing, merely offering him her love so that he might draw comfort and security from it. If he wanted to talk, he would do so already, and then she would be there for him. 

It broke her heart to see her lover like that. Tales of past events were one thing, but the feelings connected with them were something completely different. The things that had happened had undoubtedly changed Maglor, and he was no longer the Elf who had led the Noldor rebellion alongside his father. Maenwen did not know what was left of this Elf, but she knew one thing for certain: that despite everything, she would always love him.

In times past, people had whispered behind her back and secretly pointed their finger at her. She, the wife of a kinslayer. She had proudly stood up to these elves and closed her heart to grief. No one had dared speak ill of her husband in her presence, but she had heard what was said about him and his brothers. They were called monsters, heartless beasts that lusted for the blood of the innocent.

But no, that was not her Maglor. He had never been and he had never become that person. How could such a murderous creature ever find the compassion to spare the children of its enemies and take them in as sons instead?

Maglor had always been a gentle soul and this act alone proved to Maenwen that nothing had ever changed.

"Elerosse is dead", Maglor whispered in a barely audible voice. Tears ran down his face. "Taken from me forever. My son is dead. I left them because I thought they would be better off without me. But I only made things worse."

Maenwen pulled him into her arms and gently cradled him. "Weep, my love. Mourn, but don't let this grief consume you. What's done is done. At the end of all days you will be allowed to see him again when the world is broken and made new."

Maglor replied nothing. Silently crying, he leaned into her embrace. She hoped to at least ease his pain a little. As happy as she was to have him back, her own heart cried over all that had been done to him. 

After a while his tears ebbed and his breath calmed down again. Still he did not say a word and Maenwen accepted his silence. Then finally he started to sing, the first time since he was back among elves. Even though his hands might still be hindering his harp playing for the moment, his voice had lost none of its charm.

It was a children's song, but one that Maenwen did not know yet. Maglor had once taught her all the songs he had written for his younger brothers. This, however, he must have made up for Elrond and Elros. Maenwen smiled involuntarily as she listened to the story of little twin brothers who had adventures in the forests of their homeland. She wished she had been there. What a gift it must have been for Maglor to see Elrond and Elros grow up! Elrond had told her how bad things had been for the last two Feanorians, but he seemed to have no idea that without him and his brother, things would have been far worse for Maglor and Maedhros.

When Maglor's song ended, Maenwen realised that they were no longer alone. Frodo had joined them, apparently drawn by the song. He seemed a little hesitant; obviously he didn't want to disturb them. Maenwen smiled and waved the old Hobbit to them. 

"I think I understand things better now," he said as he came to them.

"So?" Maglor looked at him questioningly. The song seemed to have muffled his grief, so he was in better shape now.

"There are some open secrets in this house that nobody really wants to talk about," Frodo explained. "My uncle once said that Strider had half jokingly called it an impertinence that he had sung a song in Imbeláris about Ardamíre of all things. Oh, I shouldn't keep calling him Strider, an old habit."

Maglor looked at the hobbit who had sat on the bench next to the two elves. Maenwen wondered what was going through her husband's mind, but at least he smiled, and that was the main thing.

"I didn't really understand what he meant at the time, but it seemed appropriate somehow," Frodo continued. "To us mortals, that's one thing about elves. They just seem to have always been there, that I never really thought about where they came from. It seemed almost profane to me that people like the Lady Artanis had parents and siblings. Back at the Council, I was amazed when I realised that Master Elerondo had seen the War of the Last Alliance with his own eyes and must be even much older if Ardamíre is his father. For me, these are all just stories and legends that are so far in the past that they hardly seem real to me anymore. But there are still those who have experienced these things themselves, as incredible as these enormous time spans seem to me.

"Here in Valinor Master Elerondo began to wear your father's star. I had not asked the reason for this, although I was surprised and many here do not seem to really agree. But it seemed to me a sensitive subject and therefore inappropriate to ask about it. Then I heard your song just now and in it lay the same magic as in the music of Master Elerondo. There is always something magical about Elvish music, which distinguishes it from the songs of mortals and certainly from the silly verses we sing in the Green Dragon in the Shire in the evening. But such magic as was heard in your song I have only heard from Master Elerondo so far. He must have learned it from you, right?"

"Magic?" Maglor repeated, asking. "I never really understood what mortals meant. Some even called the  _silmarilli_ magic, but my father only ever spoke of his craft. But well, if you want to put it that way, then yes. I taught Elerondo and his brother my music. They were good students, though not the best." The last one he said with a half mischievous, half loving smile towards Maenwen.

She replied with a challenging look. "You shouldn't have said anything else now," she said, playing sternly, but thinking back to the old days with love.

It seemed like another life to her. At a time when the Black Enemy was in chains and the world had known peace, she had applied to Maglor as a student because she wanted to learn his art. And who would be better suited for that if not one of Feanor's sons? Everything these people touched, they finished in perfection. She had impressed Maglor with her quick perception and passion and he was full of admiration for her skill. Maglor was not someone who could be impressed too easily. She could no longer tell today whether she had fallen in love with his music first or with him. Even though this love had caused her much grief and pain, she was happy to have never completely abandoned it.

Frodo looked at them both with a smile. Then he returned to his original theme. "You and Master Elerondo are close."

For a brief moment, Maglor seemed to hesitate. But then he took an upright position. "Yes," he said. "There is more to fatherhood than bringing a child into the world and then leaving it behind for countless odysseys at sea. Tell me, little halfling, do you know the Quenta Silmarillion in its entirety? Do you know what my brothers and I did in our quest to fulfill our oath?"

This conversation seemed to awaken more and more of Maglor's spirits. Maenwen saw how he began to return to his old self. Good. 

Frodo was clearly hesitating. He was obviously well aware of what this Elf before him was capable of doing, and he was perhaps rightly intimidated by it. He nodded.

"The world sees us as monsters," Maglor continued. "Elves who kill other elves. The worst crime of all. And yet they all gratefully use my father's Tengwar, enjoy the lamps he has given them, and praise the benefits of his  _palantíri_ . Yes, they even look up with hope to his Silmaril, which was stolen from us. We Feanarioni are much more than just the blood on our hands. They may be the sons of our declared enemy Elvinga, who withheld our property from us, and yet I could never have slain two small children. They were just six years old, frightened and completely alone in a world that would have swallowed them effortlessly had they not been given protection. It was I who robbed them of their home and family, and yet I took them with me to give them the little protection I could offer at that time. Some claimed that they were our prisoners, and my brother also intended to take them as a pledge for the Silmaril in the early days. But when we finally saw that same Silmaril rising to the West, we knew that this would never happen. Elerosse and Elerondo are my sons and I have denied it long enough that it is so."

Frodo indicated a slight bow. "I thank you for sharing this with me."

Maglor replied nothing, just mustered Frodo in silence for a while. "Are you aware that you have accomplished something even my father failed to do?" he finally said, though more to himself. "What is it about you that made you capable of this? What did Elerondo see in you that made him give you this Ring?"

Maglor now knew what had happened in the past two ages, at least a rough outline of what had happened. Elrond had wanted to spare him until he had regained his strength, but Maglor had not let up. And Maenwen knew that Maglor always got what he wanted.

"Lord, I ..." Embarrassed, Frodo fell silent and seemed to know not what to say in reply. 

But Maenwen could not deny that she had been asking herself the same question as her husband. It seemed like foolishness to her to place something like this Ring in the hands of such an inconspicuous creature and send it straight to the enemy. Perhaps it was now time to talk to Elrond about it. She was curious to know what decisions and considerations might have led to this. 

"Well, in any case," said Maglor, now in a much more relaxed mood again. "I want to learn what songs mortals sing to each other these days. Little Halfling, sing me a song from your homeland."

"Lord, I ... Well, I don't really know," Frodo stammered sheepishly. "You wrote the Noldolante, and I really don't know if any silly Hobbit songs would suit you. They are really just nonsense and certainly not appropriate for you."

"What I sang just now was nonsense too," Maglor thought. "A little silliness I invented many years ago."

"Anyone else would claim it was a masterpiece," Maenwen interjected. 

"Then these philistines didn't hear my Noldolante, and that's a real shame." Maglor sighed artificially. "A lot of educational work awaits me there. But first, Yerna-saira, I ask you."

Frodo didn't seem to feel very comfortable with this, and Maenwen almost felt sorry for him that he had got caught up with Maglor. When it came to his music, he could be very obstinate. Finally, Frodo seemed to have decided on a song after all, and he cleared his throat.

_ There is an inn, a merry old in _

_ beneath an old grey hill, _

_ And there they brew a beer so brown _

_ That the man in the moon himself came down _

_ one night to drink his fill. _

_The ostler has a tipsy cat_

_that playes a five-stringed fiddle_

_And up and down he runs his bow,_

_Now squeaking high, now purring low,_

_now sawing in the middle._

But then it seemed too embarrassing and he interrupted himself. Maglor seemed to be somewhat amused by the song. Frodo, however, was relieved to continue singing for them when Maenwen saw an elf entering the property. She had not seen him for as long as she had Maglor, and he now possessed another  _hroa_ , yet she recognised him immediately. She smiled.

"Darling, look who is finally back," she said, pointing in the direction of the newcomer.

Maglor followed her finger pointing. And then suddenly nothing held him back. "Nelyo!", he cried enthusiastically, jumped up and flew straight to his brother.

Maedhros looked as if he had seen a ghost. He was still a redheaded giant, and yet Maglor almost managed to pull him off his feet, so much so that he was surprised to see his brother again.

"My little songbird," he exclaimed with astonishment. "How can this be? Why are you here?"

He pressed Maglor to himself, as if he wanted to make sure he would not lose him again. Crying with joy, Maglor wrapped his arms around his chest.

"For the same reason as you, I suppose," Maglor replied as the first rush of emotion subsided a little. "And imagine I wake up as if from a long, terrible dream and find that I am going to be a grandfather! Isn't that exciting?"

"Oh no! Don't say I'm late. I hurried so much that I'll be back in time."

"You're lucky, it's only for a few days. But you shouldn't have come later."

Smiling, Maenwen watched the reunion between the two brothers. It was almost as if all those painful years had never happened and everything was back to the way it was when King Finwe was alive. Almost.

"You should have seen the Feanorians in their youth, Yerna-saira," she said, "They were like an unstoppable storm, so powerful that the world still bears their marks today. Not even the Valar were safe from them. I am sure my husband will tell you sooner or later, most likely in verse, how Tyelkormo once taught Huan all sorts of silliness and then unleashed him on Orome. And the nonsense that Ambarussar had in mind is legendary anyway. But I doubt that all seven will ever be together again, not until their father slays their old enemy who caused all their suffering."

She sighed. But then she smiled. "Come, let's go back inside and give them some time alone."

Although Maenwen had had plenty of time in the past weeks to reflect on how she would meet Maedhros, she had not really come to a conclusion. Maedhros' intensity had always intimidated her, even before the rebellion, and all the millennia they had been separated had only widened the gap. She would not be able to escape meeting him, but perhaps she could delay for a few more hours.

But just as she was about to help Frodo up, her hopes were dashed.

"Maenwen!" exclaimed Maedhros. "Is it really you? What a surprise!"

Maenwen smiled uncertainly as she turned to him. She should have known. No one could escape Maedhros. Frodo indicated to her that it was all right and that he could find his way back in alone. Maedhros dispelled all her worries when he came to her smiling and took her in his arms. It was as if she was embraced by a mountain range, but one full of warmth and affection. Suddenly all her tension dropped away.

"I am glad to see you again, and at my brother's side too," said Maedhros.

"The last time we saw each other you seemed very angry that I had turned away from you," Maenwen said.

"That was in another life at another time." He waved away. "What matters is that we are together again, here and now."

Maglor joined in. "Now we can be a family again."

He smiled as he stroked her face tenderly, and that smile was the most beautiful she had ever seen. At that moment she really wanted to believe that it would be a bit like the old days again. Maybe they could really be a family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imbelaris - Quenya translation for Imladris/Rivendell
> 
> The poem is an extract from There Is an Inn, a Merry Old Inn by Tolkien


End file.
